


Eternal Vow

by tearsandholdme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Badass, Derek as Hades, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gods, Hades and Persephone AU, Idiots in Love, Immortality, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Hellenistic Religion & Lore), Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Possessive Behavior, Reincarnation, Romance, Spring, Stiles as Persephone, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-19 13:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearsandholdme/pseuds/tearsandholdme
Summary: They were immortal powerful gods, had the ability to reincarnate, and they were deeply in love.What could go wrong? Apparently, so much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap a doodle do do.
> 
> No, I am not dead. Yes, I haven't written a fanfic in nearly 3 years. I could go into massive detail but I was depressed, now recovering and medicated, lost my love for writing etc etc etc
> 
> Then recently I started thinking of plot bunnies, little buggers jumping around my head. So I sat down and...tada! 
> 
> If you could leave a comment or kudos that'd be fantastic! Honestly, stroke my ego. If not, well hope you like it. Point out any errors but be polite about it. You know the drill.

The sign of Beacon Hills loomed in the distance as Derek pressed his foot down of his black Camaro. It purred ever faithfully under his hands and he eyed the sign coated in dust and grime from the road. It had been a very long time since he had entered this part of California. But it held magic in the core of the forest coating nearly seventy per cent of the surrounding area. He had even lived here once. His mouth curled in the corner in a small smile when he reflected on those times. 1804. Derek had been calling himself a different name back then. Daniel Westfield. His disguise and persona were the orphaned but very wealthy child of a lord and lady from a country they didn’t know or question. 

Upon arriving in the town, he had bumped instantly into a beautiful young lady carrying a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables. The fruit and vegetables went everywhere as predicted and he knelt, helping her to pick up the oranges and apples. 

“I am so sorry, I do beg pardon, I did not see you,” she pleaded, hands wrapped tightly together as she looked up on him. Her cheeks dusted pink and her eyes widened but were also slightly dazed. He knew he was attractive to young ladies and even young men. It didn’t faze him. He had dismissed her apologies and simply asked for her name. 

Laura Hale. Eldest daughter of the Hales, a very respected family. Talia Hale, a doting wife, Richard Hale, a loving but stern husband, and five children. Back then, he had been invited into the family establishment for dinner as an apology. From then on, he had been accepted into the folds of the family. Derek was certain upon reflection that Talia had wanted him to marry one of his daughters. That, of course, never happened despite her pleas. But he had been a loyal and caring friend for the years that passed. The daughters married, so did their sons, and Derek remained an everlasting friend but forced his human form back then to age as they did. 

Derek didn’t have to age. He could live a decade and never change his human form, never change his face, his hair, his body, but humanity was not like him. They were everchanging, always growing, living and dying. So, he too had to change. It was exhausting most of the time. Daniel Westfield back then had sat by Talia’s bedside as she grew weak from influenza. Her hand clasped in his and knowing eyes searched his face.

“You are different,” she had whispered. “I’ve always sensed it. Like a looming darkness, a wide hole of…death…and despair…following you. I used to hear voices, whispers in the darkness when you passed by. Ghosts! But I ignored it. But I’m right, tell me I’m right.”

“Rest, rest and know you’ll see your husband once again,” he had replied instead. Derek could have told her the truth, but he suspected she already knew a part of it. Once Talia and Richard Hale had passed on and their children married, the surname Hale had all but died out in Beacon Hills. So, Derek took it in their memory. Sometimes he used it, sometimes he didn’t. But it felt right to use it once again in this generation.

Derek parked the Camaro on the side of the road and stepped out. It was late October and the cold was beginning to slowly spread across the land. Dark eyes scanned the deserted road, not a soul or car in sight. The gravel crunched underneath his feet, his hands buried deep into his black leather jacket as he stepped into the forest and walked. The leaves crunched underfoot and despite the darkness, he could see well enough. His sense of direction led him to the Nemeton, and he paused once reaching the stump. 

It had been cut down more than sixty years ago and he knelt observing the roots. Power hummed underneath his feet and silence surrounded the area. Like nothing dare to breathe or move near it. It was a beacon for the supernatural and it was fully charged.

“I wonder,” he murmured and reached forward to press his hand to the surface. Blue light crackled instantly, and electricity flew up his arm, into his veins, the current crackled into the muscles, and touched his bones. Derek hissed air through his teeth and laughed coldly standing up.

“Ah, my love,” Derek murmured, flexing his hand and staring upwards at the sky. Stars glittered down on him and he closed his eyes softly.

There was only one person in the whole worthless, stinking, and intolerable universe he cared about. Only one. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he was hers. He didn’t even know her name all that time ago and his heart, breath, and soul were stolen in a moment. It had been countless years, over time you forget how many. Being immortal had its ups and downs, but he was never alone. Not really. This was the reason for his return to Beacon Hills.

Persephone. Their true name. But, like the name Hades, that was hardly ever used these days. They had countless names and countless reincarnations. Daisy, Henrietta, Henry, Dale, Lily, Rose, Jacob, Daniel, and that was just to name a few they had chosen. Persephone tended to reincarnate into different genders over the decades while he chose to remain the same. Derek didn’t mind what gender he or she chose in the end. His chest ached at the thought of his love. It always had and always will. 

His eyes opened slowly, and he bowed his head inhaling the smell of rot and decay. There was no point lingering and he turned swiftly on foot. He had one contact he could rely on in Beacon Hills and he drove to the apartment building. Derek buzzed and waited patiently. 

“Hello,” a soft voice answered.

“It’s me.”

The door opened with a click and a loud buzz. Derek took the stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on the bright red door.

“Thought you got lost, mister god of the underworld.”

Derek growled under his breath and rolled his eyes stepping inside her apartment. The door slammed shut and he turned to look her over. Erica Reyes stood proud, hands on her hips, a devilish look in her eyes. 

“I told you my true self in confidence. If anyone overhears…” he warned, a threat in his tone. Erica grinned unfazed and squealed under her breath before hugging him. 

“It’s been so long! I couldn’t believe it when I got your message,” she cried, stepping back and gesturing at him to sit down on her couch. Derek glanced around the living area. Small but filled with mix-matched furniture. It smelled of fruity body spray and a slight tinge of dog hair.

“I was right, wasn’t I? I knew it!” she hissed in delight. “I knew it! I knew it! There was something fishy about the arrival of a long-lost nephew straight after the Sheriff had passed away. Plus, with everything I knew and researched about you two, and the garden. Oh my god, the garden. Wait till you see that garden, it’s October! Have some self-restraint.”

Derek stood near the window watching her dart around the kitchen making drinks. Her rambling made little sense to him and he accepted the coffee she handed to him.

“What’s his name?” he said, interrupting her tirade. Erica paused, taking a sip of her own hot chocolate, and sat in the seat opposite him.

“Stiles.”

“Stiles?” he repeated. He could feel his eyebrows go up. He knew of their love for weird and odd names, but this was an odd one. Erica huffed amused and nodded leaning back into the cushions. 

“Well, Stiles Stilinski, he took the deceased Sheriff’s last name. Got his house, his wealth, his land, everything. Stiles had all the documentation and he’s swept into the town and made it his own,” she said, head shaking in bemused disbelief. “I got to give him credit.” 

Derek sniffed his coffee delicately and took a sip absorbing that little tidbit of information. For as long as he’s known his little wildling, they’ve been excellent at masking their presence and abilities. Always running, always hiding. It was their own personal and private game. Cat and mouse but it never ever ended. Two immortals locked in a battle of love, loss, pain, and eternity. 

“I haven’t seen him in fifty years,” Derek murmured. Erica stared at him openly shocked and he shrugged indifferently. 

“Time flows differently up here.”

“Still, fifty years, that’s a long time. Did you have a fight?”

His memories flickered like butterflies in front of his eyes. Yelling, screaming, crying, a vow broken. Derek flinched back from the memories and nodded once. Erica bit her lip and wisely did not push. 

“You look good,” Derek said, eyes appraising her. Erica blushed and straightened her back. “Healthy, radiant.”

“Oh, you charmer,” she cooed. “I am good, Derek. I really am. I’ve settled in here well, I’m going to college, I have a little…a little pack of friends. Not werewolves, mind you. But it’s enough.”

Derek could already feel a sense of loneliness of being the one and only hidden werewolf in Beacon Hills emanating from her. It was for her own safety. Derek nodded and gave her a small but genuine smile. It seemed to appease her, and her eyes flashed a burning yellow in response. 

 

“Couch is yours, I know, I know, you don’t really need to sleep. But still, if you want to slip into one of those weird little comas you do. It’s all yours,” Erica stood putting her cup down and reached over to press a kiss to his cheek. “See you in the morning, handsome.”

Derek said nothing in response and simply watched till she entered her bedroom and shut the door. He had learned politeness over the many years, and he washed the two cups in the sink for her. Once they were cleared and there was nothing but the hum of the refrigerator with the tick of the clock, he stood by the window staring out. There was a comforting agony knowing that he was only a few streets away. His arms ached to hold him once again, to kiss him, to feel the touch of his skin, taste his lips, his mouth, his sweat, his tears. Consume everything and never let it go. 

Derek took the offer of the couch and took off his jacket and shoes before lying down to stare at the dark ceiling. Erica was right, he didn’t need to sleep. But he could choose to slip into a coma like state. It was something he didn’t choose to do often. There he could have dreams and nightmares. Reflections of lives lost, memories and moments lost in the wind. Derek inhaled deeply and exhaled letting his eyes drift closed. It took only moments to slip away and he let the darkness coat over him like a blanket.

Ω

_It happened instantly like a flash of lightening. His fingers slowly drummed on his throne, his eyes drifting over the stone that crumbled and shook from the ceiling above his head. His dogs, ever faithful beasts, sat by his side. They were tense and growling for the enemy in the distance. The dead all around them wailed in distress and he stood feeling a sense of foreboding._

_“Hades!”_

_Her voice. It echoed around him as he searched and pushed through the crumbling stone of the throne room._

_“Where are you?!”_

_Darkness was a constant in the Underworld. But he didn’t need the light to see his way through his world, his kingdom._

_“Hades!”_

_His desperation grew and he turned a corner slamming hard into something approaching him. Arms slid around his neck and he gasped deeply, the smell of lilies hitting his senses. He groaned deeply in relief, arms clutching around her back and waist._

_“We need to go”_

_“Who is it?” he demanded, hands cupping her cheeks. Honey brown eyes he loved so dearly, he could describe them if he was blind, stared pleadingly back at him._

_“It doesn’t matter! We need to leave, listen to your Queen,” she demanded, hands circling his wrists. “If we stay, we die.”_

_“Impossible.”_

_“Nothing is impossible,” she whispered. The place shook around them and he clutched her tightly to his body. Hades watched in horror as his hand flickered in and out of existence._

_“It…” he murmured horrified. Persephone nodded, eyes swimming in tears, and clutched his hand on her cheek._

_“We must go, we must, listen to me…please…I can’t lose you…I won’t…”_

_Her pleading faded out around him and her warmth disappeared from his hands. His desperation turned to fury at whoever had stolen her from his arms, and he screamed at the darkness surrounding him. His roar echoed on and on amongst her pleas for him, the dead wailing for their disappearing home, and whatever unknown force was attacking them. There was only one name on his lips, and he opened his mouth to yell it…_

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, his eyes opening and his breath leaving his chest shakily as he sat and recovered from the memory of the beginning of their downfall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the response to the first chapter. It was so lovely to see such a warm response, so thank you for reading, subscribing, the kudos, and comments! I'm full of gratitude. If you could continue, that'd be great!
> 
> Now for clarification:
> 
> Stiles and Derek are two immortal powerful gods. You guys watched that movie Hancock? Will Smith? It's not a bad but good film? Well I'm taking the powers they had and giving it to these two. They're POWERFUL. They just hide it well etc etc etc. 
> 
> I will try my best to try and get a chapter out every week. I really don't want to rush and pressure myself because if I do that I'll get bored and stop writing it. But if you leave a comment and nudge me along that'd be great. :)

“Come on, lazybones!” a voice yelled into Stiles’ ear so he jolted out his coma like slumber and eyed Scott McCall of all people grinning above him. “We have college, get up. I want to hit Annie’s before we head in.”

Stiles groaned pressing his face into the pillow. He regretted giving his new oaf of a best friend a key to the house he technically illegally owned. Six months ago, he had arrived in Beacon Hills under a false pretense. The announcement of a cherished and beloved Sheriff’s death had been his key to enter Beacon Hills, get a home, enroll into the local college, and protect and nurture the Nemeton. The lie of being his long lost and only nephew had been easy. The paperwork, not so much. But a matter of manipulation, a few choice words and money had secured him the deeds and keys to the house. There were no children to contest to his claim and no one seemed to bat a real eyelid. Stile entered the town smoothly and swiftly and made his way to the Nemeton. That was his key principle into coming here in the first place. The Nemeton needed him and it was his duty to take care of it. Everything that came alongside it was a bonus. 

“I gave you a key for emergencies, emergencies, Scott! Not invade my house at half seven and wake me up,” he cried, shoving a hand into his face so he laughed and batted it away. “What if I didn’t want to go to college today? It’s only Ancient History, it’s not going anywhere, is it?!”

“Come on, Stiles, I need my coffee and bacon,” he pleaded, arms pulling him out of the warm covers. Stiles huffed and let him manhandle him into a standing position. 

“Alright! Let me shower and we’ll get going.”

Scott grinned. “Isaac is meeting us there. Then we can meet up with Allison hopefully…”

Stiles left him rambling to himself in his bedroom about his long-time crush and darted into the bathroom for a shower. The water washed over him and while he basked in the warm water cascading down his face, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease. There was something prickling in the back of his mind and he inhaled deeply scrubbing a hand down his face. Normally he would ignore it, but time had taught him a valuable lesson in not to do that. 

Scott was stood outside in his garden, fingers tapping away on his phone once he was out, dried, and dressed in comfortable jeans and his best black hoodie. Stiles smiled privately to himself casting an eye over the dozens of flowers growing in his front garden. Roses, hyacinths, tulips, pansies and many more fluttered in the breeze. It was an overcast Wednesday morning, but they seemed to bloom even more beautifully.

“I don’t know how you do it dude, everyone keeps talking about it. I mean you have daffodils in October, how is that even possible?” Scott exclaimed, shaking his head at him. Stiles ducked down and shrugged stroking along the petal of one of his daffodils. The warm shiver in response made him chuckle to himself and he stood meeting his eyes.

“I’ve got a really good green thumb.”

“Understatement,” Scott cried, thumping his arm for good measure. Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved him in response. They walked in good humor towards Annie’s café and Scott practically barreled the door down to get in first. Stiles was about to follow when he stopped mid step at the car across the street. It was a black Camaro. Nice, sleek, and unfortunately very familiar to him. No one in this town owned a car like that. It was a traditionally boring town with boring cars, and he swallowed hard taking a quick look around. Nothing was out of the usual but the cold shiver that ran over his body made him want to run and hide.

“Stiles?” 

Stiles inhaled sharply and turned quickly to look at Scott and Isaac stood in the doorway of the café. There was concern on both of their faces and he swallowed hard regaining his footing and dignity. 

“Sorry, sorry, um, thought I saw something. It’s nothing, let’s go inside,” he explained. They accepted the lie and he entered the café to the smell of cooking sausage and coffee. 

“Bacon! Coffee! Isaac?” Scott said, hands slapping the slightly sticky table of their booth. Isaac declined choosing his usual black coffee and one sugar. His subdued mood was nothing new and Stiles scratched the back of his neck glancing around the café. No one new seemed to stand out to him. 

Scott waved a hand in front of his face. “You look worried, you okay? What did you see out there?”

“Nothing,” Stiles explained delicately as possible. “It’s really nothing, hopefully, just hoping it’s not who I think it is. That would not be good. In any way shape or form.”

Scott raised his eyebrows slowly and glanced at Isaac who raised a shoulder equally confused to his nonsensical speech. Stiles cut a hand through the air brushing it off and like magic or perhaps his will, the waitress for their table turned up for their orders. His hunger had evaporated, and he settled with a green tea for breakfast. The unease had not settled and swept up his back and under his skin like a rash. Scott and Isaac didn’t seem to notice his discomfort as they chatted about their lectures in college and different food. Scott’s chatter soon turned to the brunette beauty he was forever obsessed and in love with; Allison Argent. Scott had been lusting after her since high school. Stiles was pretty sure she knew he liked her but whether she liked him back was a whole different story.

Stiles pressed a closed fist to his mouth, eyes drifting between the two. He had existed for far too long to not notice the unrequited lust Isaac had for Scott. Every time she was mentioned, the hardness he hid in his eyes would harden further, the bitterness would twist his lips a little further. Scott, as ever, remained completely oblivious to one of his closest friend’s deepest darkest secrets.

“Scotty, buddy, pal, comrade,” he interrupted, slapping his hand onto his forearm. “As cute and slightly disturbing as it is for your ongoing mission to try and date the lovely missus Ali A, I’m going to need you to cut us a little slack and forget her existence for half an hour.” 

Isaac discreetly shot him a look of pure gratitude and he responded with a wink and a salute of his teacup. Scott flushed a lovely rosy pink and babbled his excuses and apologies. Thankfully, Scott’s meal arrived, and he could fill his mouth with food instead of long-lost crushes and trying to get the girl of his dreams in his bed. Stiles leaned back and sipped at his tea, the sense of unease still tickling the back of his spine. 

It didn’t take too long for everyone to finish and pay up. Scott and Isaac left first arguing loudly about something he didn’t really care about. Stiles followed and paused with a hard swallow to see the black Camaro was gone. No one had left the café to his knowledge and he carded a hand through his hair. He really hoped he didn’t see that damn car again. 

Stiles caught up to the other two and decided to shove the feeling of uneasiness to one side for now and focus on the day ahead. College was a boring feat. One he had to achieve again and again and again. But if he wanted to live and meet new people, he needed to blend in the correct way. So that meant returning to education every few years and pretending he was a young student in the prime of life. Only he and one other person in the universe knew differently of course. Stiles squashed that thought down quick and fast. 

This time round he was studying Ancient History and was one of their top students within a month of being there. Excellent essays, he even had a hand at tutoring the other students. Stiles was smugly proud of himself. But if it wasn’t for the college and enrolling, he wouldn’t have bumped into Scott the way he did. They had been a clash in the hallway, bags went flying, coffee went everywhere, shirts were ruined. Instead of fighting and arguing about it, Scott had laughed it off and offered to buy him a new coffee. Stiles accepted the friendship he offered greedily, and a portion of loneliness was starved away forever. His loveable clumsy and kind human best friend was the best part of moving to Beacon Hills and he wasn’t about to give that up for anyone. 

Stiles parted ways with Scott and Isaac once they were on the college campus. Thankfully, he only had half a day, so he plugged his pods into his ears and settled in the library. His eyes scanned the book he was pretending to read, and his eyes flickered to look outside now and again. He was taking a chug of water when his eyes glanced to the edge of campus and he spotted a dark figure near the woods. Stiles choked hard slamming the bottle down and squinted watching the dark stranger. It was hard to tell from the distance, but he was pretty sure they were looking directly at him. There were no distinguishing features from this far away, but the stance felt familiar. The unease in him flared up and Stiles dropped everything in that moment and took off in a run. By the time he got outside, the dark figure was gone. 

“Damn it,” he whispered under his breath. Even out there alone, Stiles could still feel eyes on him. Cold, calculating, and clever eyes. “Damn it!”

Stiles ducked out of college and decided to head back home. He sent a quick message to Scott explaining his absence and walked quickly back. It all became astonishingly and frustratingly clear to him once he arrived back at the house. It glowed a beautiful ruby red from where it sat in front of his front door. One single pomegranate. Stiles approached it slowly and scooped it up with one hand. The flesh was warm like it had been recently handled and he squeezed it gently using all his power. The pomegranate exploded into a million pieces, pips and chunks splattering across his porch and front door. It was an abuse of the power he hid so well but he knew what the message meant now. 

“Now that’s just not nice.”

Stiles shivered in response to the words and closed his eyes feeling it wash over him. The feelings of unease, the stalking, the car, all of it made sense. There was only one person in the world who could do that to him. Stiles turned slowly on one foot to see him stood on the edge of his property line. Donned in black, the custom leather jacket, tight jeans, sunglasses hanging off his top. He was classically handsome, the stereotypical dreamboat in all sappy romantic comedies. His eyes flashed red at him for just a moment, a peek into his true visage. It reminded Stiles of cracked lava. The power behind those eyes, behind that figure was unknown to anyone but him. But it never frightened him.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles demanded in a hushed tone. 

“Why do you think?”

Stiles scoffed, eyes darting upwards and away in disbelief. “It’s been…fifty-six years. I think it’s a little late for reconciliations and making up for lost time, don’t you think? What are you calling yourself now, is it Daniel, Fred, or we back to Hades yet?” 

His jaw clenched in retaliation and he inhaled sharply before answering. “Derek. Derek Hale.”

Stiles hummed folding his arms over his chest. He knew the significance of the last name, remembered the story of the Hales who took him in over two hundred years ago. 

“You can’t judge me for choice of names. Stiles, really? It sounds like an infection. Plus, your garden is ridiculous. It’s like you want people to know what and who you are,” Derek argued with him. Stiles didn’t rise to the dig and simply rolled his eyes ducking his head down.

“Enough with the bullshit! Why…are you here? How did you even know I was here? I cloaked myself pretty good enough to avoid you over fifty years!” Stiles cried, dropping his hands and glaring at Derek who chuckled in response. Derek moved forward a few inches onto the property line to approach him and jerked back with a hiss. Electric blue sparks flew upwards and around the house like a bubble. Stiles grinned slowly in response to his protection spells working and waved his fingers at a very disgruntled and angry Derek.

“Spells against me, Stiles? Really? How long do you think you can keep me out?” he spat, hand pressing against the forcefield keeping him out till he pulled away with a snarl of anger. 

“I’ve learned a lot of stuff over these past years. Plus, I’m a god,” he shrugged feeling smug. “If I want to keep you out, I’ll keep you out until I say so. I don’t want you here, I don’t care what you want. I want you to get in that ugly car of yours and get out of Beacon Hills. I’m happy here, finally I’m happy!”

“You were happy with me,” Derek cried, fist smashing against the bubble. “We need to talk about this…”

“No!”

“Stiles, just listen to me. I’m sorry –”

Stiles cut him off with a sharp hand gesture and thunder rumbled dangerously above their heads. Derek glanced up slowly at the darkening sky, the hint of electricity and rain in the air reflecting his worsening mood. 

“Forgot about your mood swings…” Derek murmured under his breath. Stiles scoffed furiously and lightening sparked across the dark gray clouds. “Fine, I’ll leave, for now. But I’m not going anywhere. You hid yourself from me very well, too well. But I’ve found you and I’m not giving you up again. I won’t. I know you don’t trust me right now and you hate me for what I did but I love you.”

Stiles swallowed hard at the declaration but refused to meet his eyes. Rain started to fall around them and instantly began to soak their clothes. The tension between them was thick enough and the ground seemed to tremble a little when he looked up finally to see Derek had gone. There was no sign of him when he looked up and down the road. It was like he was never there. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Stiles turned heading back inside. Rain soaked his hair, clothes, and skin when he stood in the hallway and leaned against the closed front door. His heart was hammering in his rib cage and he desperately tried to control his breathing whilst pretending the wetness on his cheeks wasn’t from his tears. 

_“I love you”_

The words rang like a bell inside of his head and it hurt more than he could ever think possible. Stiles hadn’t heard those words in fifty years. The last time was before one of the biggest fights that drove them apart. Back then, hearing those three little words was bliss. But now, now it felt like a twisting stab wound to the stomach.


End file.
